


question ➡️ answer

by Anonymous



Category: Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: Brother/Brother Incest, F/M, M/M, Not with each other, Rape and snuff, Sibling Incest, Viking-typical morals, triangulation of desire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23193322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Turns out sharing is a mistake.
Relationships: Atli/Torgrim (Vinland Saga), Torgrim/Mob Woman/Atli (Vinland Saga)
Kudos: 2
Collections: Anonymous





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**Author's Note:**

> This one is darker than I've gone with them in the past, but it's actually one of the earliest ideas I had and a few lines have been refusing to leave my head. Please heed the warnings. @vincestsaga on twitter for more brocontent.

The barn smells of straw, not as fresh as it could be. A horse voided its bowels over the panic outside. That was deeper inside, though, and nobody tracked it around the entrance when they were leading the horse out. Up near the eaves are a few little windows for just this kind of time, venting the foul air out into the night.

There's no such thing as really clean air, in Atli's opinion. Always something to put up with, just a question of how much it stinks. Same thing with women. This one, for example. Not bad looking, but try getting her to hold still. Or keep quiet.

It's easier with more men, but like with most things, they've got in the habit of sharing between the two of them. Less waiting around, trying to figure out which of his friends' hairy arses he's staring at now. With two, they just trade off who gets the easy hole and who gets the tight one. His brother's better at keeping them quiet when he's up front, Atli has to admit. But it's his turn fair and square, and he's not giving it up over some noise.

Over the woman's shoulder he can see Torgrim, putting in the usual amount of hard work. Not that he needs to look. He can feel it even up here, the push to his pull. They slip into a back and forth without needing to think about it. If Atli listens he can hear his brother grunting—they come in their own rhythm. Slower than usual at the moment, maybe because of all the racket.

"Would you shut the fuck up," he says, squeezing tighter on her rib cage. Torgrim's hands are just below his, on the hips, thumbs scraping up against his little fingers on the push. "Nobody's coming to help."

It doesn't help. She doesn't shut up any, and her nose's starting to run now from crying, ruining her looks. Atli's really no good at keeping them quiet. He doesn't want to embarrass himself by trying and failing again, so instead he closes his eyes and tries to focus on the back and forth of movement between him and Torgrim. They didn't grab anyone on the last raid and he's starting to think they should've chosen better on this one. It just seemed like it'd be a waste, letting this chance slip by too. A man only gets so many raids in his life.

"Look," his brother says, and a warm spurt hits his chin. "Fuck this."

A dull guttering sound makes Atli open his eyes. It's not one he's heard before while he's fucking a woman, but he knows it. The rasp of breathing tubes in a throat that's opened suddenly. There's not even time to see the light go out of her eyes before her head slumps and he's looking at Torgrim wiping his knife on the back of her clothes.

"Hey!" The body starts to drop the second Torgrim lets go of her collar, and Atli pulls back defensively, slipping out of her still-warm cunt and drawing back on the milking stool. He feels his chest for a moment, surprised by his own panic at the sensation of being weighed down by a corpse. "Hey," he says again. "I was using that."

"And I was sick of her." Torgrim gives the legs a few kicks to move them out of the way. Some more squawks come out of the throat, but those won't last long. It's easier to filter them out, knowing that. When there's room he gets back on one knee, closer this time. "I'm about fed up with all of them."

Atli wipes at his chin. It was a deep slice and the spray must be everywhere. His clothes need enough cleaning later without Torgrim adding to it. Even if he's not on laundry duty, too much dried blood always gets you dirty looks from the men who are. "What're you on about?"

"I'm sick and tired," Torgrim says, sliding his knife back into its scabbard, "of fucking you through other people."

"Fucking me," Atli repeats, stupidly. Blood drips from his chin, one two heavy plops and then nothing. So much of it on him but it's spread so thin. "Fucking me?"

"Watching you. Feeling you move." His brother's hand is on his bare hip. This isn't the first time Atli's seen him cut a throat in one stroke. It takes practice. "All these meat shields and we still keep looking at each other."

Torgrim's beard is pricking at his face now, the heat of his breath closer than any woman's has been in years. Even through their thick clothing Atli can feel a hint of warmth where his brother's body rests softly against his own. They both smell like blood, none of it the blood they share.

The pounding in his chest isn't from fear. His body doesn't know how to feel frightened when he's with his brother. But something in Atli's head is telling him he ought to be.

"Seems to me there's some things we have the right to do when we're alone." The hands that dragged a woman into this barn by her hair are just ghosting, now, against the side of Atli's head. Waiting, begging for permission. "Two grown men. Make things so much simpler."

Atli's not scared of his brother. There's something in this barn he is scared of, though. He doesn't know what it is. 

"Don't." There's nothing else he can say. "We can't. I don't want to." So much else he could say. He can't think of any of it, his brother pressed against him like this.

Torgrim's arm tenses for a moment around his shoulders. "Don't _watch_ me like that, then," he says, slowly, and Atli waits unafraid, with his heart thumping, feeling the strength to pull away gathering in his brother's muscles. 

Then the cool air rushes back in to fill the space where he was. Hoisting his trousers up from his knees, he glares not at Atli but at the ground. There's a dusting of blood on his beard where it brushed against Atli's face. He aims another kick at the body's ankles, this one too vicious for him to be trying to move it. "Go find yourself a fresh one. I'm done sharing." He pauses for a second, then spits, pure frustration and disgust arcing down onto a threadbare sock not worth the looting even if it were man-sized.

"The boats, or in town?" Of course he's leaving, Atli doesn't question that. The humiliation's hanging too heavy between them.

Torgrim grunts, and for a second it looks like he's about to kick the door frame. Then he stops himself, grinding his heel back down into the soft dirt at the mouth of the barn. But he doesn't answer, just stalks out without a word, still looking at the ground. Wherever he's sleeping, it'll be by himself.

For a minute or so, Atli thinks the excitement's about to go away any second. It doesn't, and he doesn't have the energy to run a new woman down without his brother. He sits in the shadows of the barn and handles it for himself. He doesn't look at the woman lying on the floor. He doesn't think about her, dead or alive, nor about any of the women he caught sight of tonight. What he thinks about is an image that fades in and out of focus as his mind's eye opens and closes. It doesn't fade out for long. Not anymore.

Atli doesn't know what he's going to do in the morning. He doesn't know what he's going to do every day after that. He's not angry that Torgrim made this real. It's his own fault, how terrifyingly good this felt for him, long before it ever happened. It just hurts, everything else that's going to be gone tomorrow, when they're back on the boats and he has to give his big brother the look that says, next time.

Next time, they'll have to finish it.


End file.
